


we don't believe (what's on tv)

by Taste_of_Bitterness



Series: i don't think it struck you (it chose you) [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Basically Barry and Oliver need to chillax with the PDA, Explicit Language, Like, Lots of Cursing, M/M, and attempted sass on my part, david singh's pov, hella minor, oh also minor barry!whump, they're going to scar somebody for life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 20:06:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6438427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Bitterness/pseuds/Taste_of_Bitterness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Thank you,” Queen said, and Detective Adalyne swooned. “Can you tell me if Barry Allen is in?”</p><p>Of -fucking -course. David’s not even surprised at this point. Of course it leads back to Allen, because Allen was completely unable to not mess everything up. </p><p>“He is,” David said hesitantly, narrowing his eyes. What Queen could possibly want with the kid was completely out of reach of his deductive capacity. He did know, though, that Allen had gone up to Starling City to help Queen with a break-in. Broke the rules to do so, actually. David had never been closer to firing him. </p><p> </p><p>In which Barry is briefly a public badass but Oliver's over-protective. And Singh's not pleased with anybody.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we don't believe (what's on tv)

David Singh ran a tight ship. Every officer was a well-oiled part of the machine, easily moving together to churn out results. There was only one part, one small cog, a little out of order, a little off from the rest.

As bad as it sounds, David Singh knew; if there was a hitch, it could probably be traced back to Barry Allen.

A lanky genius and gangly forensic scientist, Barry Allen was way too valuable to get rid off. So despite his constant drama, with Detective West, his daughter, and Thawne, and despite his chronic inability to be on time, Singh kept Barry on. He was a good kid, and he solved cases if in a bit of an unorthodox way.

And now he had another pro going for him: his connection to the Flash.

Iris West seemed to have a better one (she had the blog and all, and that had to be stroking the Flash’s ego), but he didn’t want to get on West’s bad side by constantly involving his daughter. And, yeah, Barry Allen was sort of Joe’s kid too, but he already worked at the CCPD. It was the kid’s job to take risks. 

So David kept Allen on, with justification other than the strange paternal fondness he felt towards the kid. But it was times, like now, that David deeply regretted that decision. 

 

The man’s eyes were wild, unfocused, and he dug the barrel of the gun deeper into Allen’s temple. Because of course it had to be Allen. It was always fucking Allen.

David could feel beads of sweat pooling together and sliding down his forehead as he looked into Allen’s terrified eyes. Adrenaline and fear had blown the kid’s pupils wide, and his hair seemed even more fluffy than usual, as if it was trying to protect Allen by looking as puppy-like as possible.

It wasn’t working.

David didn’t know what to do. No idea how to take the criminal down without getting Allen a bullet in the brain.

God. He’d just got struck by lightning last year. What rotten luck. 

“Just put down the gun, sir,” David said, one hand raised in a placating gesture. 

The man’s hands shook slightly. “Let me go,” he said, voice filled with rust. Allen flinched at hearing it. David flinched too, but he wouldn’t ever admit it if asked. 

“We’ll let you go if you put the gun down now,” he said. The criminal’s face twisted, and his grip on the gun slackened. 

He shoved Allen to the ground, the kid hitting the Precinct tiles on his knees with an audible crack. The man aimed the gun right back down on Allen’s head. More sweat slid cold down his spine. David didn’t know what to do. If the kid got shot, Joe would kill him. Literally. He’d be put in a grave.

The gun twitched. The man squeezed the trigger. Barry screamed. 

And blood was spreading in a thick puddle on the floor, and Barry’s panting was filling the Precinct, but he was breathing. He squeezed his injured shoulder, blood pooling up between his fingers, and his wide eyes just looked at David.

The man placed his boot on Barry’s back, bending him down until he was hunched over the tiles. Barry’s teeth dug into his lips, but he didn’t scream anymore. David was actually pretty impressed. The kid was taking his first gunshot wound like a pro. 

The man raised the gun back up, this time pointing it at his own head, which, what the fuck? David had seen a lot of shit, especially in the past couple months, but he’d never get used to the whole twists and turns of a criminal’s mentality. 

Sometimes he wished it wasn’t his job to keep every life he could safe. He really wanted to blast the man’s head off. Barry was shaking, the man’s boot still pressed down on his back.

“Put the gun down,” David repeated. “And you can walk out.” 

The man laughed, and it was a hollow sound. Detective Thawne, from somewhere behind him, made a helpless little sound. What were they supposed to do? Was this suicide by cops? The man took a deep breath and said “Yeah, well. No thanks.” 

And then Barry moved. 

Barry rolled out from under the boot, yanking the man’s leg down with his use-able arm. The man stumbled, and cried out in frustration. Barry lashed out with his legs, striking hard at the back of the man’s knee and knocking him to the ground. 

Next thing David knew, Barry was stumbling to his feet, one hand clutching his shoulder, the other holding the gun that had been pressed against his temple just minutes before aimed at the man’s head. 

God damn. Color him impressed. 

Thawne rushed forward, grabbing Allen’s uninjured shoulder. “I’ll take him to the hospital,” he yelled over his shoulder, quickly ushering Allen out of the building.

“We have medics here, Detective,” David yelled out after him. Thawne pretended not to hear. And as another officer handcuffed the suicidal man, her face cold, David sighed. Whatever was going on, he definitely didn’t want involved. 

Detective West rushed into the Precinct, a half unwrapped sub in his hands. “What happened?” He asked loudly, jaw clenching. “Where’s Barry?”

David groaned.

 

And, of course, it didn’t stop there, because Barry Allen was like a particle accelerator, constantly pulsing out drama and occasionally exploding with a force unlike any other. 

That day, it exploded.

Allen had come in that morning, late, like always, though it was actually forgivable whenever David’s eyes caught on the white bandages peeking out from under his collar.

West seemed to be hovering, whispering into his son’s ears and making Allen roll his eyes. The kid kept shooing the Detective away. David assumed he was fine. 

A couple other detectives were fawning over him, patting his hair and squishing his cheeks and ‘ooh’-ing over his take down of the armed man. Allen looked extremely uncomfortable with that. He started slipping back into the shadows, moving like an awkward ghost through the Precinct in an attempt to avoid further smothering.

Even Thawne joined in, his brow looking permanently creased as he followed the kid around. 

David’s cops were literal trash. Of course it was Allen’s fault.

And it only got worse. 

At lunch, David was sitting at his desk, scowling down at the salad courtesy of Rob (he’d found out about the fast food burgers last week). He hated tomatoes. The texture- ugh. Sliced thin and over a juicy patty was the only way he could bear them. And lettuce? He’s not a vegan. This was shit. 

So when commotion started erupting in the main room of the Precinct, David took that way out and ran with it. 

He stepped out of his office, rubbing away some dressing on the corner of his lips with his thumb. A man was standing in the Precinct, clearly not an officer as he was dressed in jeans, and probably not Allen as he had some bulk going on where the lab kid had, like, twigs or something.

The cops were swarming around him, heart-eyes finally unfocusing from Allen. The guy turned around, and David finally got what was happening.

Because it was Oliver Queen, and even though David refused to be a stereotypical gay man and read tabloids, of course he knew who Queen was. Former-billionaire playboy, went missing after a shipwreck, and reappeared five years later acting slightly...off.

Then again, abandoned on an island. For five years. David would have been stark-raving mad in that position. 

“Mr. Queen,” he said, striding up to him, because he valued professionalism where, clearly, the others didn’t. “Welcome to Central City! What can I do for you?” 

What was Oliver Queen doing here? The shock of a billionaire chilling in the Precinct had thrown him off that question for a bit, but now, taking in the sharp jaw, short hair, and dark eyes, he finally felt a jab of worry. Why was he here? Had he been attacked on a visit to Central City? Who did he even know in Central City? 

Where they about to get sued? God, they couldn’t afford that. 

Queen looked at David, and Jesus fucking Christ, it was kind of terrifying. Because it was in his eyes that you could see that Queen wasn’t this airhead spoiled richkid. There was something seriously wrong with him. Dark. A chill crept of David’s spine.

“Thank you,” Queen said, and Detective Adalyne swooned. “Can you tell me if Barry Allen is in?”

Of -fucking -course. David’s not even surprised at this point. Of course it leads back to Allen, because Allen was completely unable to not mess everything up. 

“He is,” David said hesitantly, narrowing his eyes. What Queen could possibly want with the kid was completely out of reach of his deductive capacity. He did know, though, that Allen had gone up to Starling City to help Queen with a break-in. Broke the rules to do so, actually. David had never been closer to firing him. 

Maybe Queen did actually want to sue them, though why he waited so long was a little confusing. Had he somehow heard about Allen’s coma, and waited until the guy was no doubt back in good health? 

Unlikely. From what David heard, Queen was entirely self-absorbed. Also wasn’t the type to travel five-hundred miles to get retribution for a single forensic scientist though, so anything he heard was basically moot at this point.

“And would you mind directing me to his lab?” Queen asked. 

“Yes, of course,” David said. 

Except he didn’t have to actually direct Queen to Allen’s lab, because Allen came to them. 

The kid tripped his way down the stairs with stacks of paperwork just barely remaining in his arms. The thick white bandages were barely visible and the only reminder that Allen had actually been sort of a badass the day before. 

He slowed to a stop as he reached the bottom, eyes spotting Queen and starting to dart around as if he was looking for an exit. Allen gave a quick step back towards the elevator, discomfort clear on his face. 

Queen, who had straightened at the appearance of Allen, stalked towards the man. David stepped after him, ready to throw himself in between the billionaire and twig of a scientist. Joe hadn’t yelled too much yesterday, but if David allowed Allen to get hurt, yet again, then shit would go down. David was sick of shit going down. 

“Barry,” Queen said, with a measured voice. 

“Hey,” Allen responded, more a squeak than anything else. “Um, whatcha’ doing here, buddy?” He tugged at his shirt collar, covering up what little bandage they could see. David’s eyes narrowed. The kid wasn’t subtle, and clearly he was trying to hide his injury from Queen.

“Detective Thawne was so kind as to call me.” All the cops swiveled to stare at Thawne. The blonde flushed heavily and looked down. And, yep, of course he was also involved. Thawne used to be a mild, slightly annoying, new cop on the block. After Allen woke up, Thawne started getting weird, because weirdness is contagious and Thawne started spending all this extra time with his girlfriend’s best friend. 

Allen made a betrayed noise. “Oh, well. As you can see, I’m totally fine, so you can totally just-” 

Queen stepped into Allen’s personal bubble and leaned in close. David held his breath. For some reason, he was getting the weirdest feeling that they were about to kiss. But that was crazy. Allen was, well, David didn’t know. Queen, though, Queen was straight. 

Probably.

He didn’t like to assume, since David knew as well as the next guy that he was far from ‘gay’ looking, and the very idea of somebody looking gay was sort of offensive. Yep. His inner activist, risen from the grave. Great.

Confusing sexuality of a billionaire and his forensic scientist aside, David couldn’t actually see Allen in a relationship. And, yeah, that sounds horrible, but the nerd of a kid was lanky, and impulsive, and usually in trouble, and utterly convinced his murderer of a father was innocent. That didn’t lend well to relationships.

Plus, David was like 87% sure Allen was in love with West’s daughter. Which was weird, but whatever. 

“Just what?” Queen asked, leaning in even closer. It was like a goddamn soap opera. And at this point, David was utterly convinced they were about to fuck, right in front of the gaping officers of the Central City precinct. 

“Just go?” Allen said, voice squeaking up a decibel, his eyes flickering to Queen’s lips. David promised himself he would look away if they leaned any closer but, suddenly, those lips were brushing and David was unable to look away.

 

When Rob finally got home, David was still staring at an empty bottle of beer, paper plate smeared with sauce and crumbs. Rob hung his heavy jacket up and set his briefcase against the couch before wandering over to him. 

“David?” Rob sat down in the chair across from him. “Are you okay, babe?” 

He shook his head and looked up, unadulterated regret in his eyes. “No,” he said. 

“What happened?” Rob gripped his hand, long fingers rubbing soothingly across his knuckles. 

He took a deep breath. “I know what Allen’s moans sound like.” 

Rob blinked. “Uh.” 

“I know what Barry Allen’s moans of pleasure sound like, Rob, I am not okay.” 

There was a quiet chuckle before Rob stood up and quickly moved around the table to hug him. “Shush, babe,” he said, rocking David, chest rumbling with undisguised laughter. “It’ll be okay.” 

“I think I saw Queen’s boner,” David said in muted horror.

The rocking stopped. “What the hell happened at the Precinct today?”

David groaned, and banged his forehead against the kitchen table. “I’m firing that fucking kid.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this took forever. 
> 
> In my defense, school. Also, my sister was born. Excuses, I know, but decent ones. 
> 
> I kind of gave out at the ending since I hadn't been writing it for two months, and you can probably tell. All well. I'm not spending more time with this. Also a bit less happy with my Barry in this, but whatever, he's awkward and his plans just crumpled. So, awkward dialogue it is.
> 
> Also kind of want to push out some more Barry/Oliver, but tbh I started these before I saw season 2, and now that I have, Barry/Oliver are kinda fading for me. Which, sadness. Coldflash is rising though, so we'll see what happens.


End file.
